Three Things I Pray (Updated)
by Daliesque
Summary: Loki, God of Mischief, has fallen from Asgard. He is lost, adrift, and alone. Until, that is, a prayer pulls him back to life. Who is this mysterious girl, and what could she possibly want with him? *An updated version of my old FF of the same name. I've since deleted the old one, and decided to start again. Thank you to all my old readers, and welcome to my new ones! :3*


_Who's ever known_  
_How much to moan and groan_  
_And quiver inside_  
_He needs to give you_  
_Everything you need_  
_Is it enough_

_You're running out of time_  
_As it grows in your eye_  
_Feel broken inside you feel_

_Sigh, static moans_  
_A storm growing strong_  
_And it's coming my way_  
_Still she gives you_  
_Everything you need_  
_Is it enough_

_You're running out of time_  
_As it grows in your eye_  
_You'll feel broken inside_  
_You'll feel_  
_And I'll feel broken inside you_

_Feel..._

_"Spiral Static"_  
_-Muse_

* * *

"I could have done it, father!" A pained voice rang out, echoing into the distance. "I could have done it, for you... For all of us." His sad voice sounded pathetic even to his own ears, as it reverberated, and bounced off of the nothingness below him. Dangling from the end of his very own scepter, clinging for dear life, Loki called up to his father. His emerald green eyes held all the sorrow and defeat of a sullen little boy.

Loki knew his father would be angry with him for all that he had done while Odin slept, but surely, _surely_ Odin would see that Loki had meant no harm. Odin would forgive him, as he always had. Every prank, every scheme, every trick Loki had ever played, was always forgiven by his father. This would be no different. _Right_?

"No, Loki." Odin scolded gently, eye cast down with a mixture of disappointment and care. The pain of his choices, and finality of his judgment radiated from every pore of the Allfather's form.

Looking up at the man he had loved all his life, the man he had strove to be, Loki's face fell. He was defeated, his pride wounded beyond all repair. His father had forsaken him. Not his father. Allfather, yes... But this man was not _his_ father.

Odin had stolen Loki away from Jotunheim, lied to him for all the summation of his childhood, and far into adulthood, cared for him at his best and worst times, and loved him as a son; As his _own_ son. Yet, Loki could not find it within himself to seek Odin's forgiveness. He couldn't bring himself to beg for retribution, for a pardon of his sins. The God of Lies had been lied to. The God of Mischief had been played a fool. He couldn't find his words. He felt his hand slipping.

All at once, his entire life began replaying in his mind. Every slight against him, every moment of derision, every time Thor had been praised, and Loki had been punished. Every scolding, every lesson, every good and bad time he had experienced. Each memory burned in his mind, leaving a bitter taste in the back of his throat. Tears, hot and stinging, threatened to spill down his cheeks.

Odin watched as Loki struggled, saw the sadness overtake his son, the anger burn inside his chest. He could feel Loki slipping, in every aspect of the word. He watched as Loki's face twisted in pain, dark eyebrows pulling into each other, in that sad way they so often had when he was a child. It struck Odin that Loki had never looked so helpless before. He felt a pang in his chest, and a tugging at his conscience. Perhaps... Perhaps he could have been a better father? Perhaps he had done wrong by Loki?

Whatever musings Odin may have been having were soon lost to him, as he watched his youngest son let go of the scepter he had been holding onto so tightly.

"No." Odin whispered. His heart leapt into his throat, as he reached out to Loki, trying to reach his son's hand before it was too late. As his fingers grazed Loki's hand, unable to catch him, he stifled a sob. Watching as his beloved, mischievous, beautiful son disappeared into the void, he held a weathered hand over his mouth. He knew, all too late, that he had made grave mistakes.

"Loki, no! NO!" Thor bellowed down to his brother, reaching out as far as he could stretch to grasp at Loki's falling form, but he too was not fast enough to catch his brother's hand. He too had let Loki down.

Loki had fallen, lost to Asgard. And in that moment, Odin felt ashamed.

* * *

Loki couldn't calculate just how long he'd been falling, or where he was falling toward. He had long since closed his eyes, in wait for the impact. Or perhaps, there would be no impact? Perhaps he would float on forever, never reaching a destination. It was of no consequence to him. The silence was peaceful, even if it made his thoughts echo ominously in his head. And there were many, many thoughts to be heard. The scene played out in his mind, over and over again.

_"No, Loki."_ He could hear Odin's voice clear in his mind. Each time it replayed, his heart grew harder, dark thoughts trickling down his entire form. There were so many ways he could have put an end to Odin, yet he could never bring himself to do so. He cursed himself for his weak conviction.

After what felt like an eternity, even Odin's voice disappeared from The God of Mischief's mind. There was nothing left in his head, but spiral static, and the faint beating of his broken heart. He could no longer tell if he was moving, or what he was feeling. His entire being had become dark, and numb. Silent, and sorrowful. It was almost like a dreamless sleep, or that place that sits between the world of dreams, and waking. It went on this way for hours. Weeks. Entire lifetimes. Everything was dark, and quiet.

Until, it was not.

_"Loki." _

Eyes snapping open, Loki awoke from his non-sleep. He would have sat upright in surprise, if he could even gather which way upright was._ 'Was that a voice?'_ He wondered, certain that he had heard something. A woman's voice, was it not? He was absolutely sure of it, but there had been silence hereafter for a long time. Perhaps he was losing his mind? He resigned himself back to his dreamless sleep.

_"Loki, God of Mischief, I call to thee. Hear my humble prayer."_ The voice echoed in his head again, clear and crisp. This time, he knew with absolute certainty, he had heard it.

_'A prayer?'_ He thought, incredulous. He had not even been aware that he could be prayed to. Though, he thought after a moment of musing, he _was_ a god. Perhaps no one had ever _tried_ to pray to him. His heart jumped in his chest as the voice sounded again.

_"Loki, I pray to thee, and ask for your guidance."_ The prayer seemed dance around inside his head, turning his hardened heart a tad softer. The voice behind the prayer was soft and lyrical, as if it was a song composed just for him. As he continued to listen, he prayed himself that the voice wouldn't cease. _"Please hear me, ancient one. God of Chaos, God of Mischief, God of Tricks. Please, Loki. I need you."_ The last part, he was certain, wasn't intended to be a part of the prayer, as it was a mere whisper in his own mind.

_'Ancient is a bit harsh.'_ He pulled a face as he thought, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He waited for the voice to call to him again, but just as quickly as it came, the voice had vanished, leaving Loki to his own devices once more. A looming grief washed over him like waves cleanse the sand. He was alone again. _Entirely alone._

Yet, somehow he felt lighter than before. He felt the tingle of electricity charging through him. He was alive again. Someone had prayed to him. Actually called out, to him! Not Odin, not Thor, not anyone else. _Him_. Someone had _believed_ in him, for once, in what felt like his entire life. The sentiment made the frost in his veins thaw, ever so slightly. He simply had to find the owner of the prayer, if for nothing more than his own devilish curiosity.

_'But, how?'_ Loki mused, forgetting momentarily, that he was still floating in the void. Surely this being was mortal, if they were praying to him. No immortal, certainly none of Asgard, held him in such high regard. Certainly not enough to offer something as intimate as a prayer. By the sound of the voice, it was a human female, of Midgard, surely.

As much as his distaste for Midgard, and everything it stood for, burned the back of his skull, he was determined to answer this prayer. _'And why not?'_ He asked himself. It was the only one he'd ever received.

It was then Loki felt the tugging of gravity on his form. He closed his eyes once more as he began his descent toward the realm he had so hoped avoid, and now so desperately wished to find. As his body began to accelerate, so did his mind. As he hit a free fall, he smiled inwardly, all the while the voice looping inside his head.

_"I need you."_

Perhaps, there was salvation for him.

* * *

**Hey there! :D Thanks so much for reading! If you're new to this story, welcome, welcome! If you're here because you read my old, horribly written, 2012 version, you the real MVP! I never got around to finishing the other story, and decided that instead of just editing it on it's old thread, I'd give it new life here. I truly appreciate you all for reading, and would love any feedback you may have!**

**Also, sorry for just 86-ing the old storyboard with no warning. It just felt right. Do forgive me. 3**


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